None of that matters because it is now the Lympics - and just to make sure that no-one is distracted by any of that lot, the News people have decided to cram all of that other stuff in a three second micro-cast blasted out of a vuvuzela into your brain, just before the weatherman tells us that everything is going to be nice and dry for the kayaking.

Because nothing else matters apart from the Lympic Games.

And EVERYONE is ecstatic!!!

Everywhere you look there are people dressing up as Wenlock, doing press-ups and squats, ignoring the News and fighting like Spartans to get their hands on tickets for the Aristocratic Horse Dancing or Indoor Pyjama Scuffling.

Even celebrated miseryguts Billy Bragg has got into the Lympic spirit...

You're welcome, Lord Coe!

It's an astonishing time to be British.

The sense of wonder and unbridled joy at being give the prestigious honour of paying ten times the original estimate to host the biggest gathering of aggressive corporate sponsors (and their appointed prancey, runny, dancey, jumpy, throwy puppets) is hard to put into words.

And no-one could be more grateful than the servicemen and women of these green and pleasant lands.

In the lead-up to the Opening Ceremony, the one's who have lost their limbs took a day off from fighting the Government for adequate compensation to carry a large Zippo through the streets - highlighting not only their sense of patriotism and sacrifice, but also that so bloody many of them have been violently maimed in very questionable conflicts.

As for those uninjured in Afghanistan and Iraq, well they have been deployed at the various stadia to make sure that nobody tries to sneak a packet of Pickled Onion Monster Munch and a can of Vimto inside, or they have been stationed at the children's gymnastics to make it look popular.

The Government and LOCOG (the incorrectly-spelt acronym for the London Organising Committee Of The Olympic And Paralympic Games) have faced criticism about the way tickets were designated, sold and distributed, leaving many areas looking distinctly like no-one gives a brass-shit about some of the more fruity events.

However, Lord Coe has insisted that the stadia are absolutely choc-full and that many of those seemingly empty seats are in fact occupied by the students of Hogwarts (wrapped up against the unseasonably chilly summer with their Invisibility Cloaks) or are probably a delegation of The Silence off Doctor Who.

It's early days yet, but I can confidently predict that the Games are a complete triumph.

The Opening Ceremony, which came two days after the Ladies Football (aka 'the Sport Of Kings') kicked off, was particularly marvellous.

It started so wonderfully with a bunch of smug, middle-class cricketers, bumpkins and shepherdesses being evicted from their 'unrealistic grassy knoll' as Blackadder watched on.

As Sir Willy Wallander's Toxic Factory came thrusting out of the ground, and was eventually flattened to make way for a Tesco Metro, Shouty Rascal and the Kaiser Monkeys sang "Smalltown Boy"...

Daniel Craig was then thrown out of a helicopter by Pierce Brosnan with the words YOU WILL NEVER BE JAMES BOND written on his head in marker pen, the Queen joined in a rousing chorus of the Sex Pistols "Who Killed Bambi?", Lord Voldermort destroyed the Great Ormond Street Children's Hospital as fireworks spelt-out the message IT'S NOW SIR DANNY BOYLE, GET IT, EWAN? - and the whole evening climaxed with Sir Paul "Lonesome" McCartney forgetting something he wrote himself and has sung every day for forty fucking years, getting packed back into his little crate and returned to the Galapagos. Islands.

I think.

I'd been to the pub, to be honest and watched it at about 2am through a fug of Pinot Groggio.

Anyway, my point is that it was very good.

And yet here were still some people who were unimpressed by all of this.

For instance, the team behind the holographic Tupac Shakur at Coachella earlier this year, were supposed to have conjured up a duet between Frank Butcher & The Queen Mother singing Chas n' Dave's evergreen classic 'Gertcha' but ran into technical difficulties the night before, and the rock band Muse were banned from playing their preposterously loud Lympic Anthem "SURVIVE" with a choir of PG Tips chimps in Yeoman of the Guard outfits after concerns from the RSPCA...

It just goes to prove that you can't please all of the people all of the time.

Let's just be thankful of what we HAVE got.

Twenty Seven channels of Sport.
Boris Johnson as the inevitable next leader of the Conservative Party.
A vast range of Olympic Torches on ebay.
Some cheap property in the East End of London for the Qatari Royal Family.
The promise that Gary Linekar is to be banned from eating crisps for a month.

And finally, the stone-cold fact that even if, at the time of writing, we are officially less athletic than Kazakhstan - the Borat theme is gonna be played out any day now.